There once was a poor mouse who lived in an abandoned church.
It wasn’t always that way for the mouse or the church; he still remembered times when the church was filled to the gunnels with children secretly snacking in
the pews offering small droplets of crumbs for his belly. But over time and slowly the church emptied and crumbs became scarce.
Be it known, this mouse was no Disney type; the type comfortable and quirky in their predicament; with thread spools for chairs and perfectly sewed patches on their overalls….
No, this mouse was truly, uncomfortably poor. He often went hungry and often felt destitute in his situation.
And although mice are excellent chewers, this mouse refused to make more room for himself by destroying something as sacred as God’s alter, under which he slept… it was all he had.
Nights at the church were terrifying. The wind howled, the beams cracked and loose shingles shuttered.
And although it must be asked why a mouse would ever stay in such circumstances; be it known, this mouse was no glutton for punishment. He sought adventure like any other.
He wanted greener pastures and opportunities for love like any other, yet there was something that told him this was home and things would one day be better.
A statue of a beautiful woman regally stood by the alter under which he slept. She stood graceful even after her gold and marble trimmings had been stripped by the villagers.
And so one day the mouse and the woman had a conversation…